


Living in a Lemonworld

by orphan_account



Category: Gravity Falls, ParaNorman (2012)
Genre: Multi, Sexual Content, Sibling Incest, Threesome - F/M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-12
Updated: 2013-05-12
Packaged: 2017-12-11 14:31:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,165
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/799771
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He finds himself with his heart racing in his chest. He feels like he’s in love with people he doesn’t even know.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Living in a Lemonworld

**Author's Note:**

> This is a fic that’s inspired by this movie called The Dreamers (minus the cultural revolution and the film buffs and the plethora of trigger warnings). You don’t need to have seen the movie though, because I changed the plot a lot. I just took a lot of elements and conversations and I tried weaving them in a different way.

**X.**

He’d come to Gravity Falls for the summer holidays. He’s been here for a week. He’s alone and he’s eighteen and his parents rented a small apartment for him in the town. Everything in it is small: the bed, the writing desk, the shower room, the vase with fake flowers.

He writes to them every single day, he misses them all the time, he thinks about how much problems they’ve been having because of what he is.

‘Dear Mama,’ is what he writes, at the start of his email message.

‘Still, nothing interesting’s come up. I’ve been trying to talk to people, meet people, but I just don’t know how.

There’s this place called the Mystery Shack. I see some kids about my age there. I’ve been meaning to talk to them. But I still haven’t.

It’s just awkward, you know?

I hope you and Courtney are okay. And I hope dad’s cooled off.

See you.

Love,

Norman.’

+

He meets the girl called Mabel during the second week of his stay.

There’s a crowd. Men and women are gathered around this giant tree at the edge of the town. The whole place is full of murmuring. There are but two police officers: a thin, lanky white man and a rather chubby black man.

Norman tries to go through the crowd to see what the whole fuss is about. When he’s near enough, he looks up.

He’s sure no one else sees this.

A girl is just sitting there, on a branch, watching everyone with sad eyes.

“Those kids are crazy,” he hears someone say.

And Norman is sure that whoever they‘re talking about the girl on the branch isn’t one of them, because the girl is green, translucent. A ghost, in short.

“Damn tree huggers,” someone else says.

Norman arches an eyebrow. He tries to get through whatever’s left of the crowd.

As he gets closer, he notices there are chains around the tree, and there’s another girl. This time, she’s not green. She has brown hair. She’s wearing a pink sweater. She’s wearing a beret, and she’s smoking a cigarette. She’s also chained to the tree.

She’s the first one he notices.

The others chained are guys and girls in t-shirts with variations of the peace sign on them. One girl is a redhead, one guy has black hair, another guy is chubby with brown hair and blonde highlights, the others he doesn’t bother to look at.

He’s only focused on the girl in the pink sweater. Because he’s seen her before, around the lake, and around that place they call the Mystery Shack.

He doesn’t realize he’s staring.

She sees him.

A smile. He notices her dimples.

He blushes. He thinks she’s pretty.

Norman looks up again, at the exact spot where the ghost girl sits.

He looks back to the girl, and he notices she’s still looking at him. She’s looking and she’s moving her head, almost like she’s telling him to come nearer.

And, damn, he can’t resist a pretty girl.

He approaches her, looks to the ghost girl one more time, and when he gets to the girl in chains, he freezes.

“H-hi,” is all he can manage.

“Could you take this?” she says. “It’s been in my mouth for an hour.”

She means the cigarette, of course. He draws near her, takes it, puts it out, fidgets.

“I’m not really chained to this, you know,” she says.

“Huh?”

She gestures her head, signaling him to look behind her. He looks, sees that she can easily move her hands in and out of the chains. He looks back to her, smiles, and she offers a grin back.

“How are you sure I won’t rat you out?”

She shrugs. “Just a feeling.”

Norman chuckles at that, because he knows she’s right.

“You’re new here, aren’t you?” she asks.

“Y-yeah,” he says.

“I’ve seen you around. You’re always alone. I’ve never seen you smile before today. I wonder why?”

He can’t answer that. He doesn’t know the answer to that. He feels awkward and sweaty and embarrassed.

She chuckles. “We’ve got such a shortage of teenage boys in this town.”

“Well, I’m just staying here for the summer, so—“

“Same here, yo,” she says. “I help run the Mystery Shack, which I’m sure you’ve heard of. My great uncle owns it.”

“Sounds—sounds fun.”

“Loads of fun.” Her dimples really distract him. “What’s your name?” she says.

“Norman. Norman Babcock.”

“Great name, Norman Babcock. I’m Mabel Pines.”

“Nice—Nice to meet you.”

Norman doesn’t know what else to say. He fidgets, trying to find some more words.

“You see her, don’t you?” she asks, suddenly.

He has to freeze at that. “W—what?”

“The girl who lives on the tree. You see her, right? I can’t, but a little birdie told me she lives up there. The others chained themselves to save the tree from the mayor, but I’m doing it for the girl.”

“A little birdie?”

“Yeah, freaked me out a bit too, you know. Talking bird and all.”

She says this with so much normality. Norman doesn’t know what to do with it.

“I—Well—“

“You’ve been looking at that branch up there—“ She moves her head, looks up to where the girl is. “That’s where she’s supposed to be. And I know you’ve been looking up there. I saw you.”

“I don’t—“

She turns back. “So am I right? Can you see ghosts?”

Nothing he says can get him out of this. She’s looking at him with so much interest and so much suggestion. Her grin’s trying to escape her cheeks.

He nods.

“Say, dear,” she says. “Why don’t you come over for dinner tomorrow night?”

Oh.

“Well—“ He thinks about his family, and the apartment, and the silence, and— “I’d love to.”

She nods, smiles some more. “Great. ‘Cuz I know someone who’d be very glad to meet you.”

+

Yeah, of course he wanted to go. An attractive, quirky girl asks him to eat dinner with her. Of course he’d go 

On the phone, his mom says that he should be careful. He talks to her the whole night. It’s a little bit tiring. He asks about his dad, and she says he’s busy, like always, though he knows he just doesn’t want to talk to the son that lost him his job.

+

He finds himself with his heart racing in his chest. He feels like he’s in love with people he doesn’t even know.

He’s tried his best to look nice. He put on his favorite green long-sleeved shirt and brown pants. His dress shoes are pointy and black. He attempted to comb his hair back, make the strands stay down, but to no avail.

Mabel receives him with that same grin on her face. She pulls him along the house, tugging his arm. She’s so happy to see him, and he’s happy to be a source of pleasure.

He’s also happy, though, to meet this other person.

He sees him first sitting on the dining table, his legs folded to his chest. He’s smoking with only two fingers holding the cigarette. He’s wearing this loose fitting white tank top and red shorts. He’s frowning, at first, but he smiles slightly when he sees Norman come into the room.

Norman sits across from him. Norman smiles, and he gets a chuckle as a response. He stares at the other boy, a little bit mesmerized.

“Mom! Dad!” Mabel calls.

Norman double takes at Mabel. “I didn’t know—“

Then, this woman who looks like an older version of Mabel comes in with a tray of lasagna. She stops, says “oh. I didn’t know we were having a guest.”

“You were supposed to tell her, Dipper,” Mabel says, slapping her brother’s shoulder.

“Hey, I’m not the one who invited him,” Dipper says, as he sets his cigarette down on an ashtray. It’s the first time Norman hears his voice.

A man comes in – a thin man, in glasses and baggy pajamas.

“And who might this be?” he says.

Mabel then takes Norman by the shoulders, grins, and says, “Mom, Dad, this is our new friend Norman.”

This is how their night starts, with awkward introductions and a lot of lasagna.

Apparently, their great uncle Stan is away, in some free cruise, and apparently, their parents have been staying here for a week, wanting to see what it’s like in this town. They’re leaving tomorrow, though. They’re leaving Mabel and Dipper here, all alone. And it seems to be a non-issue.

They’re all talkers, except Dipper apparently. Mr. and Mrs. Pines are going on and on and on about some things they heard on the news, or read on the paper, or watched on PBS. Some of what they say Norman hears, but mostly he doesn’t, because he’s staring at the siblings who seem engrossed in each other’s company. They exchange a single cigarette. They feed each other. At one point, Dipper even has his head on Mabel’s shoulder.

The parents excuse themselves early because they have to be up at a very unholy hour tomorrow. They say goodbye to their kids and goodbye to Norman. Mr. Pines says, “You’re a quiet kid. Unlike these two here. I like you.”

He doesn’t know what he means because Dipper’s plenty quiet, he thinks.

Mabel gives them all ice cream in these little glass cups once their parents are gone.

Dipper is eyeing Norman while they eat. He only takes one spoonful into his mouth before he puts his cup down and starts to speak.

“So how long are you staying here again?” Dipper says, as lays his arms down on the table and leans his head to Norman’s direction.

“For the whole summer,” Norman responds.

“Mmhmm,” Dipper muses.

Mabel laughs. “Don’t believe his cool guy act,” she says. “It’s all just part of his plan to impress you.”

“I didn’t think—“

Dipper slaps Mabel’s arm, playfully. “Little shit,” he says. “I was gonna make it last the whole night.”

She rolls her eyes.

They don’t ask about the ghosts, not just yet. Norman knows they’re just putting it off.

Norman leaves the thought and he focuses on how happy he is.

Dipper starts talking. A lot. He starts telling stories – stories that are actually interesting.

“They say a lot of things about this town,” is how he starts.

“They sure do,” Mabel adds.

And then the talking begins: Talking wildebeests apparently live on the mountains nearby. Gnomes living in the woods apparently take the shape of people every now and then. The town’s resident psychic apparently wants to get into Mabel’s pants. There’s a wax dummy of Larry King lurking around this house, too, wanting some sort of revenge.

“Revenge for what?”

“I dunno. His defunct show?’

They laugh some more, and Norman doesn’t remember a time when he’s done this. He’s certain he’s already in love with these people.

“All the things I said are true, you know,” Dipper says, and then he points two fingers at his eyes. “I saw them with these very eyeballs.”

“I don’t doubt it.”

“Oh Normy,” Mabel butts in.

Then Dipper leans his head to Norman again. He huffs, says “hm.”

Norman feels something at his leg.

“Why don’t you stay for the night?” Mabel says.

She says that while Norman feels something rubbing his leg. He feels a foot; he feels toes creeping against his skin. It goes straight to his dick.

He looks at Mabel, stammers, and he notices that she really can’t be the one who’s rubbing his leg.

He wonders how in the world a foot could do that. It’s on his thigh now, tickling, making him get goose bumps.

It’s inevitable that he look straight ahead to see a certain someone smirking.

“Answer her question, ghost boy,” Dipper says, and Norman gulps.

Wow. Just, wow.

Yes, he’s definitely staying tonight.

Yes, he knows what he’s in for.

Kind of.

Not really.

He’ll just have to see.

 

**Y.**

He writes to her again.

‘Dear Mama,

Dipper and Mabel have been more than amazing. They’re funny, and nice, and they really don’t care that I see ghosts. And I—“

No. Backspace. He can’t talk about how he’s fucked both of them silly. He can’t talk about moaning and kissing and coming. What is he thinking?

‘—It’s hard to believe, I know. And you might be worrying. But you shouldn’t because I’m okay. I’m safe. There’s really nothing to worry about.

I kind of—“

No. Backspace again. He can’t say he kind of wants to stay for good. That wouldn’t be fair.

He decides to just end the message there.

‘Send my love to everyone at home

Yours,

Norman’

+

Really, he’s not stupid. It doesn’t take too much to figure out that Dipper and Mabel aren’t regular siblings.

They’re a little sly, at first.

They lie on each other’s laps. They tug on each other’s arms. They tickle each other a lot. They invade each other’s personal space more than your regular brother and sister. They sleep on the same bed, on nights when they don’t sleep with Norman. They sleep with only underwear on. They also like to do this thing where Dipper is the husband and Mabel is the wife; they like to act out typical domestic situations. “Where’s my sandwich, honey? I can’t go to work without my sandwich.” “I forgot! I was busy putting the baby to sleep!” “The baby?” “The baby!” “Oh, yeah, the baby.”

Intimacy with Norman is done separately. They don’t share, and Norman thinks that maybe it’s because they think he can’t take it.

Norman does everything to prove himself.

He likes to carry Mabel and take her, against the wall. He wants to make her see that he’s strong. Mabel loves it; he can tell by how she wraps her lower legs around his back. He knows she likes it when he has his fingers inside her before he fucks her hard. He knows she likes it by the way she says his name, whispers to him “Dearie. My love. My first love.”

Dipper likes it a little differently, a little slower, a little sweeter. He’s funny like that. Norman likes having Dipper on all fours. He kisses Dipper’s back. He kisses Dipper’s neck. He kisses his ass cheeks. He kisses, and he licks, and he feels Dipper shiver. He knows Dipper likes it because of how much he begs. He knows Dipper likes it because of the redness of his cheeks.

Those are the only ways he can think of to prove himself: through touching and thrusting.

He has a conversation with Dipper about this, in the diner. They’re alone and eating pancakes with bacon and eggs. Mabel is at the shack, handling the gift shop.

“What exactly are we doing, Dipper?” he asks.

Dipper stops. He was lighting a cigarette, but he stops, puts his lighter down, and takes the stick out of his mouth.

“What are you talking about? We’re eating a nice, unhealthy breakfast.”

“I’m talking about us. You, me, and Mabel. What are we doing? Is this an actual thing? Is this normal?”

“Where the hell is this even coming from?”

“Just answer my question, Dipper. What are we doing?”

“You’re our plaything. She has you on Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays. I have you on Tuesdays, Thursdays, and Saturdays. Sunday’s the Sabbath, so nobody has you then.”

Norman frowns. “Is—Is that all I am to you?”

Dipper slaps Norman’s forehead.

“Of course not, idiot. Mabel loves you. And I love you. And we’ve told you so many times. Though it makes no sense, because we’ve only known you for a little more than a month.”

Norman can’t help his blush.

“Then why—why can’t I—“

“Why can’t you what?”

“Why won’t you let me—Both of you—Like—“

“Let me stop you there—“ Dipper raises his eyebrow. “You want us to have sex. All at the same time. Like, a threesome. Is that it?”

“Geez, not so loud.” Norman scratches his hair, lowers his head. “But, yeah. Basically.”

“What makes you think Mabel will be comfortable with that? What makes you think _I’ll_ be comfortable with that? We’re brother and sister.”

“Oh c’mon,” Norman says, and he looks Dipper in the eye and starts making his voice softer to say what he thinks, “Do you think I’m stupid? I see you two. I see the way you look at each other. It’s not hard to miss.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Before I came along, wasn’t it just you too? Weren’t you—weren’t you—“

Dipper glares at him. He grabs his glass of water, grips it tight around his nimble fingers.

“What Mabel and I have is nothing sexual. We’re connected by birth, by—I dunno—by fucking cosmic order. I don’t need to be fucking inside her to know that I love her more than—than a normal brother would love his sister.”

Silence.

Norman bows his head. His hands are on the table and they curl into fists. He wants to cry, because what Dipper says may not be something he’ll ever have.

He’ll never have a family who loves him no matter what.

He’ll never have bonds fixed by fucking cosmic order.

He wants it so much.

He’ll do anything to get it.

He’ll do anything just so he can feel it.

He closes his eyes tight.

“Hey,” Dipper says.

Norman feels Dipper’s hand take his.

“You have to know, Norman—“ he continues. “That Mabel and I have always felt that no one could understand us. We’ve always been obsessed with ourselves and with each other. And we never thought anyone else could get into our lives. But—Well—Look at you. Look at what you’ve done to us, ghost boy.”

Norman opens his eyes.

And he’s really tearing up now.

One corner of Dipper’s mouth lifts, forms a half-smile.

“Now tell me,” he says. “Are there any ghosts in here today?”

Norman chuckles.

“Yeah,” he says. “Up there, dancing by the ceiling fan. And, uh, there’s a couple over at the booth in the corner.”

Dipper smiles full on.

“Cool beans.”

+

He calls his dad, that night. He calls him on his cellphone. Not his mom. He wants to talk to the man straight.

It’s his mother that answers, still.

“Why the fuck won’t he talk to me?” Norman screams. He’s in his apartment, sitting on his bed. He’s gripping his white sheets tightly, wrinkling it in spots.

“Language, Norman,” she says.

“Just answer the question, ma! Is it too much for a son to want to talk to his own father? Jesus, ma!”

She’s quiet, for a second, and then she says what she always says, “Just give him time, Norman.”

He’s crying now, crying hard. “So are you guys splitting up?”

“W—Why would you even say that Norman?”

“Last time I was there, you were fucking screaming each other.”

“He called you a freak, Normy. Of course I was going scream at him. I have to draw the line somewhere.”

“You still haven’t answer my question though.”

“I don’t know what tell you.”

“Really, ma. Avoiding is your solution to everything.”

“That’s not true.”

“Sure it is!” he screams. “You sent me here didn’t you? To a town that isn’t even on the fucking map!”

“You can’t talk to me like that, Norman.”

“Sure I can! And, you know what ma, since you seem so dead set on avoiding all your problems, why don’t I just stay here, huh? Why don’t I just stay here for good and never come back? That would be nice, wouldn’t it?”

“Norman, you know I can’t—“

“Goodbye, ma.”

He hangs up.

And he can’t do anything but cry.

+

He doesn’t know what times it is, or what day it is. He only knows that the sun is up and someone is on him.

It’s those dimples again, the ones he finds so distracting.

She’s on top of him, over his blanket. Her face is so close to his. Her hair is down. He sees that she’s wearing a brown blazer over a pink t-shirt.

“Hiya,” she says, and kisses his eyes.

“What are you doing here?”

“Kissing the sleep off your eyes,” she says. “Dipper lets me do it all the time.”

Norman grins. “Not what I meant,” he says, wrapping his arms around Mabel’s back. He slides a hand down her body. He wants to know what she’s wearing below her t-shirt. He figures out that it’s a skirt.

“We wanted to see what your apartment looks like,” someone then says.

Norman is surprised to see Dipper right there, standing by the door with his arms crossed. He’s in a brown blazer too, but his t-shirt is blue and his pants are purple.

“It’s only fair, ‘cuz you kind of messed up our whole house,” he says.

“Oh c’mon, Dipper,” Mabel says, while still facing Norman. “The house was way more messed up before he came along. I think Normy here knows exactly how your cleaning habits go.”

“It was a joke, Mabel,” Dipper says, a little flushed.

Norman laughs, sneaks a kiss at Mabel’s lips.

“Okay, Dipper,” Mabel says. “Tell him the real reason why we came here.”

Norman arches an eyebrow. Mabel releases herself from Norman’s hug, and rolls over to sit.

“I told Mabel about the conversation we had yesterday,” Dipper says.

“W—“ Norman’s mouth falls open. He turns red like a tomato.

“And Mabel has something to say about it,” Dipper adds.

“Yes. Indeed, I do have some things I’d like to say to you, my dear Norman.” Norman turns to her, and she keeps their eye contact. “First of all, you’re a dummy. Second of all, you’re adorable. Third of all—“

She pauses, takes a deep breath with her nose.

“Third of all what?” Norman offers.

“Third of all, I hate you Norman Babcock. I hate you for not telling me how you’ve been feeling. These are things you shouldn’t be hiding, Normy. Not from me nor from Dipper.”

“I—I’m sorry.”

“No, don’t be sorry. Just remember this – my fourth of all: You, my lover, my sweet, mean more to us than anything in the world.”

Norman has to believe her, because her voice, it’s ringing in his ears and it’s giving off nothing but honesty.

“But,” Mabel continues. “I’m just not comfortable with—with—“

“I know,” Norman says, and then he kisses her, softly, on the lips. He takes her face in his hands and he kisses her.

When he lets go, she’s crying, and he’s surprised because he’s never seen her cry before. She’s biting her lip, and tears are escaping her eyes.

“Aw dammit,” she says, covering her face with her hands.

“I—Mabel, I—“

“Dipper needs a kiss too, Norman,” Mabel says, amidst her sobs. “Go give him one.”

Norman fidgets, holds her arm, lets go, and turns to Dipper. He’s standing there, with his arms still crossed, and Norman knows that it takes all of Dipper’s strength to keep a straight face.

“I’m waiting,” Dipper says.

Norman gets on his feet. He rushes to Dipper and gives him a giant hug. He doesn’t say anything, because he doesn’t know what to say.

“Just a hug, ghost boy?” Dipper says.

“You’re impossible,” Norman manages, before he puts his hand at the back of Dipper’s head and kisses him with all his strength.

Norman really blames himself for all this drama over nothing. He wants to punch himself, bash his head against a wall. He deserves it. What in heaven’s name has gotten into him? He’s a dummy, a dweeb, and a drama queen. He’s got so much love, but it’s never enough for him.

He will not under any circumstances make the people that love him drop like flies.

He thinks perhaps he should call his mother later.

+

He knows he won’t be staying for good, so he does whatever he can with them. The sex now is just secondary.

They have dance nights on Fridays. They hold parties at the shack, and the twins make it Norman’s challenge to make everyone ignorant to the fact that he’s kissing both of them.

They have hipster night on Saturdays. They dress up in their most fashionable clothing, and they go off to town and wreak hipster havoc with Instagram and conversations about obscure movies.

They have ghost hunts on all the other days. They ask talking birds where the creepiest ghosts are. Norman verifies it when they’re there. He gets possessed once or twice, though apparently Dipper has this book that has the solutions to everything.

Yeah, the fucking just comes later. The sex is really just secondary.

Really, it is.

While they’re not having it, at least.

Because when they are— Oh, man.

_Oh man, oh man, oh man._

Yeah, sure, fine, Norman admits it.

He can’t live without it. 

 

**fin.**

**Author's Note:**

> The title’s from Lemonworld by The National, which was the perfect song for me to listen to while writing this.


End file.
